


Close Shave

by JayRain



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Facial Shaving, Humor, M/M, Mustaches, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:25:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9695582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayRain/pseuds/JayRain
Summary: Dorian decides it can't hurt to try out a little change to his appearance.  Inquisitor Theo Trevelyan, however, isn't so sure of the results.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deathRae94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathRae94/gifts).



> BlondMoments showed me this gifset: http://blondmoments3894.tumblr.com/post/155215370621/sigfodr-youramatus-x and a fic had to happen XD

Dorian was pretty certain he’d be finding sand in his smallclothes for weeks.  He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d brought about half the Hissing Wastes and Western Approach home with them, a little bit of the desert to warm up the mountains here in Skyhold.

As was typical after returning home from a mission, Theo had been summoned to a council to deal with everything that had gone wrong during his absence.  They could at least allow him a moment to bathe and change clothes before laying into him, Dorian thought.  But perhaps it was better this way.  This way, the Inquisitor could get business out of the way immediately, and then clean up and relax the rest of the evening.

Besides, it gave Dorian the time and space to primp at his leisure.  Thanks to dwarven engineering they’d been able to get hot running water throughout Skyhold.  He soaked in a deep stone tub and let the aches from the long, hot and sandy ride seep out of him.  He scrubbed his hair and under his nails and then just sat and soaked some more. Part of him hoped that Theo might return early from his debriefings; catch him lounging in the water, and then join him… But after several minutes of entertaining this fantasy Dorian sighed and climbed out of the tub.  Theo’s advisors would never let him out early.

He wrapped himself in a fluffy towel and stood before the ewer and fogged over mirror.  He normally kept his facial hair neatly trimmed and groomed, but the long travels hadn’t afforded him the opportunity to shave, and in spite of the bath he looked positively (or negatively as the case may be) scruffy.  Scruffy, in moderation, was an adorable look on Theo, but not so much for Dorian.

Dorian swirled a brush in the cup of shaving soap, which had been infused with elfroot to soothe the skin while shaving.  Truly being part of the Inquisition was full of perks.  He lathered up, humming to himself.  Then he picked up the gleaming straight razor and swiped it over his cheeks.

Growing up in Tevinter he’d had servants to do this for him, but as he grew he’d discovered that he liked doing at least this one grooming task for himself. It was methodical and careful work, angling the blade just right, and besides, no servant had ever been able to trim his mustache  _ quite _ how Dorian liked it when he did it himself.  There was something satisfying about the scrape of the blade over the stubble, the smell of the lather, and the still-steamy bathing chamber.

Dorian angled his head back to get his jaw and neck, and then he paused to examine his mustache.  He’d had it practically since he’d started growing facial hair, and it had always been one of his defining features--apart from his eyes, his bone structure, his smile, his physique… It couldn’t hurt to shave entirely; besides, it was just hair.  It would grow back.  Perhaps he could even spell himself to grow it faster if he wasn’t keen on how it looked.

He trimmed with the tiny shears first, and then lathered up under his nose once more.  The smell of lavender and elfroot was calming, and he began the careful work of shaving away his mustache.  At last he rinsed off his face and gave himself a good, hard look in the mirror.  It was hard not to laugh, as he barely looked like himself, but it still wasn’t a  _ terrible _ look on him.  

Or so he thought.

He’d just wrapped himself up in a silk robe and started the fire, had just barely settled in bed with a book (was that  _ really _ more sand underfoot in the area rugs?) when he heard Theo’s footfalls on the stairs.  The Inquisitor moved slowly, no doubt bone-tired from closing rifts, both of the Fade and the political variety.  Dorian had taken the liberty of running another hot bath to be ready for Theo, and the smell of lavender and elfroot wafted out of the washroom.

“Long meeting?” Dorian asked, glancing up from his book.

“They always are,” Theo said with a tired smile as he appeared on the top steps.  He was focused on unbuttoning his shirt, and then kicked off his boots.  Dorian winced when he thought of how much more sand was going to end up on the floor.  He tugged off his socks and was working on unlacing his breeches.  “Did you start a bath for me?” he asked.

“I thought you’d like it after spending an extra few hours being filthy,” Dorian told him.

“Brat,” Theo said with a smile.  “Thank you.”  He looked up and shrugged out of his shirt.  He was pretty scruffy himself.  He smiled at Dorian, but it did not quite meet his eyes.  He furrowed his brow.

“Something the matter,  _ Amatus? _ ” Dorian asked.

Theo blinked.  “What. Did you do… to your face?” his voice was a slightly strangled whisper, and he sounded like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry.  

“My face?  Oh.  Yes.”

“You don’t look like you,” Theo said, still planted firmly in one spot, staring at Dorian’s smooth, bare face.  “You look… Maker.  What were you thinking?”

“That I’d had facial hair for more than half my life and a change couldn’t hurt,” Dorian said, rolling his eyes.  “Honestly, Theodane, you act like you’ve never seen a man without facial hair before.”

Theo threw his bundled up (and rather sandy) shirt at Dorian, who dodged the wad of incoming clothing.  “I’ve never seen  _ you _ without facial hair before!”  Theo’s eyes widened.  “Maker, neither has anyone else here!”  Now his eyes were sparkling, and his mouth was curved in a half-smile.  Dorian was beginning to regret his decision, and not just because it had resulted in Theo’s dirty, sweat-stained shirt being thrown onto the clean bed, with a clean Dorian in it to boot.  

“Fine, I’ll grow it back!” Dorian snapped, slamming the book closed.  “You, go get clean.”

“Should I shave?” Theo asked, now having a difficult time holding back outright laughter.  “One of us needs to have facial hair.  Otherwise kissing may be awkward.”

“Or will it be?” Dorian asked.  “It could be interesting to at least try…”

Theo shed his pants and smallclothes and headed for the bathroom.  “Only one way to find out,” he said with a grin.  “And if we like it… I suppose I could try to get used to you like this.”

“You are too kind,” Dorian said, but he was chuckling as he set the book aside, stripped out of his robe, and followed Theo into the bathing chamber for a repeat bath, which would undoubtedly be more fun this time around.


End file.
